


He's Such A Doll!

by MissMoochy



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angel/Demon Sex, Asmodeus (Original Character) - Freeform, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Clone Sex, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Demon Sex, Dolls, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining, Sex Robots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-01-30 22:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21436054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy
Summary: Aziraphale is visited by Asmodeus, the Prince of Lust. He knows the angel is pining for Crowley and offers him a tantalising bargain. An enchanted doll that can assume the form of Crowley and is capable of fulfilling every one of Aziraphale's sexual desires. But how can Aziraphale keep this new development a secret from Crowley?
Relationships: Aziraphale (Good Omens)/Original Male Character(s), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is Aziraphale/Crowley but it also features some Aziraphale/Asmodeus. Asmodeus is technically an Original Character, since he doesn’t feature in the show or book. I thought it would be fun to write Asmodeus as a gorgeous demon who’s quite uncomplicated and fun-loving. Kind of a Dionysus figure.

One thing Aziraphale was glad of, was that he’d never actually seen his bookshop burn. He’d been given the news by the one soul he trusted most in the universe, loved most in the universe. He’d concentrated very hard in manifesting in front of Crowley and it had worked. It was the first thing that had gone right in quite a while. And although he hadn’t been able to see Crowley’s face, he’d heard the pain in his voice when he broke the news about the shop. He’d loved him for that, for Crowley’s empathy. Heaven always said demons couldn’t feel anything other than anger and lust. They were wrong.

But now, Aziraphale stood in his new and improved bookshop, taking care of business. There were some new additions to his shop, some Just Williams that hadn’t been there before, in fact, a lot more children's books than before. Bless Adam. They’d all learnt a valuable lesson on what it means to be human.

Not much had changed since they’d averted the end of the world. He and Crowley still met up, went out to luncheon, attended matinees and took walks in the park. They both had much more free time now. He thought he’d get bored of devoting his life to enjoyment, but it hadn’t bothered him yet. It was nice to retire, and Crowley seemed to think so too. Of course, this new freedom brought a problem with it, one so trivial, it almost seemed silly. Now that he was no longer in fear of Heaven finding out about their friendship, he had no reasons to push Crowley away. This was a good thing but it made a few revelations come to light. He could no longer ignore the fact that he desired Crowley. Romantically, physically. The demon moved him. Brought him to the pique of strong emotion and kept him there. Because nothing was ever consummated. Sometimes, Crowley would look at him in a certain way, and Aziraphale would wonder if his feelings were reciprocated. But then, logic would rise up and tell him no, he was only seeing what he wished to see. They were friends, nothing more.

He'd taken a break for a little while, and sat, enjoying a nice cup of tea. It was peaceful.

Oh. He had a customer. Drat. He pasted a polite smile on his face and looked up and froze. 

The man approaching his counter looked like a normal human. Well, not  _ normal, _ he was extremely attractive. His coffee-coloured skin was offset by his deep black curls. He grinned, showing perfect white teeth. His eyes reminded Aziraphale a bit of Crowley’s, they were golden too, but with normal human pupils. Although the pupils were blown wide. He walked over (he had a slight limp) and waved, to get Aziraphale’s attention.

But the scent hanging around him, in his clothes, his hair, his skin was evil. He was a demon.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Aziraphale said, keeping his voice level. He wished Crowley was there. Aziraphale wasn’t a weakling, he could take care of himself but he always felt safer with Crowley beside him.

“I come from downstairs,” His voice was heavily accented, although where the accent was from was anybody’s guess. “I was looking for humans. For fun!” He grinned again. Other than the fact that his teeth were perhaps a bit too sharp, he’d easily pass for human. 

“Looking for humans?” Aziraphale didn’t bother pretending that he was one, this demon must have picked up his angelic essence immediately. “Why? I suppose your lot hunt them for sport,”

The man shook his head and his curls spun. “No, no, never for sport. For fun!” He leant over the counter and his gaze travelled up and down Aziraphale’s body. “For lust,” He spoke English but Aziraphale got the impression he didn’t spend much time talking or perhaps he spoke a lot of languages and couldn’t remember the grammatical rules for all of them. Perhaps he was simply better at communicating non-verbally. There was only one demon he could be.

“A-Asmodeus?”

“Yes! You know me!” He seemed pleased.

“I know you’re the prince of Lust. I’ve not met many princes before, just Beelzebub. Oh, and Satan himself...does he count?”

“You are not afraid, little angel?”

Aziraphale bristled more at the ‘little angel’ remark than the subtle threat. “I’m not. Now, I’m running a business here so unless you’re planning to buy something-”

Asmodeus slapped a book down on the counter. Aziraphale reached for it and - oh, good Lord.  _ Kama Sutra by Vātsyāyana . _ He hadn’t realised he even had a copy of that here. It might not have been his, perhaps Asmodeus carried a copy everywhere.

“Tell me something,” Asmodeus said. “Why does nice angel give off such strong feelings of lust? I pick up your energy from mile away,”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

Asmodeus shot him a reproving look. At once his face seemed to change. Black horns pushed through his curls, his eyes darkened and his hands, which were resting on the counter, grew fearsome talons. He idly dragged his fingers up and down the counter, scratching deep grooves into the wood while Aziraphale watched in horror. Several seconds passed where all that could be heard was the scratching of Amodeus’s claws. He wasn’t just drawing random lines, Aziraphale realised. It was a crude drawing of a snake.

“The Original Tempter,” Asmodeus said. Seeing the look on Aziraphale’s face, he laughed softly. “Relax. He is not knowing of your feelings. He does not have the nose for it. But Asmodeus? He smells it here,” he ran one taloned finger along the side of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale shivered.

“If you’ve come to  _ gloat- _ ”

“No, no…” Asmodeus was shaking his head and those curls were flying again. “I help. You are businessman, I am businessman, I sell to you. You are happy, Asmodeus is happy and the serpent Crowley is none of the wise,”

“None of the wis _ er, _ ” Aziraphale corrected him. Asmodeus didn’t seem bothered that he’d been chastised, he was staring dreamily at Aziraphale’s lips. “What could you possibly have that I would want to buy?”

Asmodeus straightened up, all business (and smiles). “Very good, I show you. Demonic artistry!” He clicked his fingers and they were in Aziraphale’s bedroom.

“Wait, I don’t-”

“Hush, holy thing,” He reached into the black bag he was carrying and pulled out a doll. He passed it to Aziraphale. It was about the length of Aziraphale’s forearm, head to toe, and was very well made and surprisingly heavy for a child’s plaything. Its hair were short strands of red wool, its face was made of cream-coloured corduroy. The head felt firm, perhaps sewn inside was a golf ball or a ball of tightly-wadded fabric. Its mouth a straight black line of wool. It wore a black jacket, grey collarless shirt, black jeans and black shoes and a grey scarf. It’s eyes were marbles, translucent yellow with thin black slivers inside.

“A doll of Crowley. Very nice. I’m not sure why you think I would want this -”

Asmodeus tutted and then cleared his throat to speak. When he spoke, he ignored Aziraphale completely and spoke only to the doll. “Crowley doll, wake up!”

Something pushed Aziraphale backwards, some unseen force and he fell heavily, grunting from the impact. A shadow fell over him. Crowley. Crowley, his dearest friend, his secret love, was standing there, perfectly still, staring ahead with a strangely blank look on his face. Behind him stood Asmodeus, arms folded, grinning like a proud parent.

“Is good, no? Looks like real thing. What are you thinking?”

“Crowley, what’s going on?” he held out his hand but Crowley didn’t help him up, so he staggered to his feet, a little offended.

Crowley didn’t respond. He hadn’t moved at all. This was very worrying.

“Silly angel, I keep telling you, is not Crowley. It is Asmodeus’s toy. The doll...”

At that, Aziraphale hunted on the floor. The doll had been wrenched from his grasp as he fell and it was no longer there, that was true. But this was impossible...wasn’t it? You couldn’t make a living doll that looked so...perfect. He voiced this and Asmodeus seemed to take it as a compliment of his skills.

“Is very convincing, yes. It is my first effort, but is very good. I thought you try it? Tell me if you like it? Demons do not love, little angel. Is sad but is life. But you are soft angel, being of love. You could pine for demon who thinks nothing of you or you could... _ indulge, _ ”

“And if I do this, I’ll wake up tomorrow in a pool of sulphur with two black wings?” Aziraphale said, cocking an eyebrow.

“No. It is not sin, you will not Fall, it is like, uh, kissing a photograph. This is not real Crowley, this is doll. See?” He rapped his knuckles on Crowley’s forehead. His fingers made a hard sound. Aziraphale flinched but Crowley didn’t. 

“I could never betray his trust like that,”

Asmodeus looked politely puzzled. “Is not betraying anything! Is like kissing photograph! Crowley is demon, Asmodeus is demon, same thing. Crowley not mind. Trust Asmodeus!” He tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially.

“And why are you helping me?”

“I need test run. To know if it works. I do not want give to other demons, they use it for war effort. Asdmodeus wants his inventions used for pleasure not...uh, boring things,”

“And you’re just going to give it to me?” Aziaphale said skeptically.

Asmodeus grinned at the double entendre, and Aziraphale blushed. “The doll, I mean. You’re just going to hand it over?”

“No, little one. You pay,”

“Pay with what?”

Asmodeus pushed on Crowley’s chest and he obligingly took a few steps backwards. Asmodeus made his way to Aziraphale and smiled down at him. Aziraphale swallowed. The demon was very tall.

“I have  _ had _ humans, demons, something I think was abominable snowman once! But no angel. Never an angel,”

“So you’ve got a list of species and you want to cross me off?”

“You make it sound cold. Clin- _ i _ -cal…” His breath drifted on Aziraphale’s face. It smelt rich, spicy. It made him think of embalming, which should have repelled him and yet…he felt dizzy, the floor was unsteady beneath his feet. He grabbed Asmodeus’s lapels for balance.

“I don’t think-” he whispered.

“Gooood…” Asmodeus cooed, nuzzling Aziraphale’s neck. “Don’t think-”

His lips were close, so close Aziraphale could feel his warm breath.The demonic scent was so strong, it reminded him a little of Crowley although Crowley’s unique brand of wickedness was so familiar, it was reassuring. This strange demon’s scent was overpowering like strong perfume, it invaded his nose and his throat, made him want to take deep, unpoisoned breaths outside.

“I shouldn’t-” He hardly knew what he was saying. This was wrong, it was a betrayal but wouldn’t it be worse to pine for Crowley, to make him think he had nothing more than beautiful pure friendship with Aziraphale only for Aziraphale to secretly harbour these sinful feelings for him? Wouldn’t it be kinder in the long run for Aziraphale to rid himself of these feelings by using them up on the doll, so he would be free to let their friendship return to its natural state? “Oh, alright!”

Asmodeus stepped back and he could breathe again. “Excellent! You will not regret. Crowley doll will do anything you desire, however there are rules. First, never show him to anyone. I do not want people knowing of this power yet. Not until I can refine. Second, give him clear instructions. He is not understanding of sarcasm. Third, turn him back into little doll when you are done. Two Crowleys running around will cause suspicion. To wake him up, you say “Crowley doll, wake up!” To send him back to sleep, you say “Crowley doll, go to sleep!”” This last bit was directed at Crowley. This time, Aziraphale could see the effect. A puff of smoke and Crowley was gone and the little doll was lying on the floor. Asmodeus bent, displaying a shapely arse (Aziraphale averted his gaze) and scooped the doll up, cradling it in his arms.

“Most important, it is not real Crowley. It cannot hold conversation with you. It cannot think for itself. It cannot learn from mistakes. Do you understand?” His tawny eyes were burning into Aziraphale’s face. 

“I understand…”

“Good!” Asmodeus was smiling again. He seemed possessed by the same manic energy as Crowley, maybe it was a demon quirk. His sudden changes in mood were disorientating, Aziraphale felt like he had whiplash.

“You take doll, have fun. I will be back in two days for payment,” he winked. “If you like it, you keep it, Asmodeus can make more for other customers. If you not like, please tell,”

“I - uh, fine,”

Asmodeus clicked his fingers and they were back in the shop. He turned to go, but then swung back and stroked the side of Aziraphale’s face. “Pretty angel.” Then he was gone.

Aziraphale stood in the shop, staring down at the little patchwork doll. He could hardly believe he’d signed up for this. He’d faced Satan before but this truly felt like a deal with the devil.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale tries out the doll. Or tries to try it out. But it's not the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will have some Aziraphale/Asmodeus in it. But that's nothing compared to next chapter, warning you now!

If Aziraphale had known earlier that day that he would encounter an unfamiliar demon, he would have been terrified. He would have called Crowley up, packed his bags and fled with him. No good could come of a demon darkening Aziraphale’s doors. But when Asmodeus limped to the aforementioned door, thrown it open and shambled into the afternoon, the last struggles of the setting sun bouncing off his curls, Aziraphale wished he could call him back. Because even having the demon prowl around his shop was better than being left alone with. It. 

He’d returned to his bedroom, to inspect his new possession. The doll was still there, lying on the floor where Asmodeus had dismissed it. If it had moved unprompted, Aziraphale thought he would have discorporated right there, out of shock alone. Perhaps this would be easier if it looked less like Crowley. He thought of Asmodeus, sitting in a room working on this doll, sewing his little jacket and trousers, planting strings of red wool into the scalp. He’d obviously taken great care to make it. Aziraphale couldn’t use it. The thought was ridiculous. To do so would be perverse. Crowley would hate him.

_ But Crowley would never know. _

That doesn’t matter! He couldn’t do this. But then...Asmodeus would be visiting him in two days and he’d want a report on how the doll...performed. He’d gone to the trouble of making it for Aziraphale. He’d be terribly disappointed to find out Aziraphale hadn’t used his invention at all. And to make a demon angry was a bad idea. Yes, looking at it that way, the only safe, sane thing to do would be to try the doll out. Just once.

He picked the doll up and laid it down on the bed. He laid down beside it, watching it from the corner of his eye as he said: “Crowley doll, wake up!” This was ludicrous, this wouldn’t work-

There was a blurred puff of smoke and then he spotted a dark mass grow, in his peripheral vision. Crowley.

He turned and  _ oh, _ there he was. Larger than life and  _ so close,  _ Crowley. His beloved Crowley. He was so close, he could count the pale freckles on Crowley’s nose, count every eyelash, every hair of his eyebrows.

His hand was trembling in front of him, as he searched for what he should touch. The lips seemed too intimate, the hand not intimate enough(they’d shaken hands before and this time, Aziraphale wanted to touch skin that was new under his fingers) so he settled on Crowley’s cheekbone. It was firm, the skin pulled tight over the bone (or whatever Asmodeus had used to fill out the body. But he didn’t want to think about that now) and he cupped Crowley’s face. He’d pictured this before and the Crowley in his fantasies would smile, lean into the hand and nuzzle it. But this Crowley didn’t move, just looked right through him. Aziraphale drew back his hand like he’d been stung.

He tried to tell him what he wanted without speaking, pour it into the swirls of his eyes and shoot it outward until it hit Crowley’s brain. Their friendship was the kind where you didn’t need words, they’d had whole conversations just with their eyes. And Crowley was always so good at guessing what Aziraphale wanted or pre-guessing and fixing problems before they even became problems.

But this Crowley lay there, pale as marble, a statue that didn’t reach for Aziraphale, the way he should, didn’t caress him or say something reassuring or something funny, possibly a joke about how Aziraphale should love this Crowley because this is a Crowley who knows how to shut up.

And the silence was impartial but to Aziraphale’s mind, judgemental. In the silence, he felt his crimes of lust were being scrutinised, put on display. He wished this strange, silent Crowly would grab him, pin him down, even hit him and hurt him, he certainly deserved that. Anything but this. He felt lonely and the worst thing was, he couldn’t call Crowley up and tell him what was wrong because. Well. that was obvious.

He cried in his bed and then banished Crowley to his ragdoll form. The doll seemed to still be judging him though, with its little marble eyes so he picked it up and threw it at the wall. 

* * *

It was the afternoon two days later when Asmodeus dropped by the bookshop. There were no customers, just the way Aziraphale liked it. He’d had a brief phone conversation with Crowley in that time, he’d not asked Crowley if he wanted to go somewhere for lunch together and Crowley hadn’t asked him. That was a relief. He didn’t think he could face him at the moment.

Asmodeus was wearing a tight black leather jacket and trousers to match. When he spotted Aziraphale at the counter, he clapped his hands together.

“I think I have name for my dolls, my business name. Passion Puppets. What you think?”

“I suppose that could work. They’re not very passionate though, are they? Mine didn’t work,”   


Asmodeus shrugged. “Eh, they only boring if you make them boring. You control everything. You want doll tell you he love you? He do it. You want him to get on knees and weep at your beauty? You tell him and he do it. I am not thinking yours is broken, I am suspecting you not using it right.”

Aziraphale must not have looked convinced (and he was a little irked Asmodeus assumed he would make a mistake), because Asmodeus grabbed his shoulder. Aziraphale winced, he’d become so used to Crowley’s gentleness, he forgot that demons were a lot rougher with each other than angels were. He tried not to show his discomfort, lest this creature call him “little angel” again.

“We go to your rooms and try it out. I need payment anyway,”

“How romantic,” Aziraphale muttered but he followed the demon to his quarters. On the way, he asked him how he knew the way, to which Asmodeus replied “I follow the smell of lust. Is stronger in your bedroom, yes? Night activities, hahaha!” Aziraphale regretted asking.

* * *

The doll was lying on the floor, where he’d thrown it. He still felt a twinge of guilt for being so careless with it. It wasn’t its fault that it didn’t work. And he couldn’t be harsh to anything that reminded him of Crowley. Even seeing a random human wearing sunglasses was enough to bring out a smile in him.

Asmodeus picked up the doll and sat on the bed, long legs spread. He fiddled with it, straightening its sunglasses, neatening its wool hair with his fingers.

“Look fine to me,” He plunked the doll on the bed besides him. “Crowley doll, wake up!”

Crowley sprang into being, as dull-eyed and silent as ever. Sitting beside him.

“Frown, Crowley,” Asmodeus said. The doll frowned, a faint line appearing between his brows. “There, there’s grumpy Crowley I know in Hell! You look better already!”

He did look more...Crowley...ish. Aziraphale leaned forward, interested despite himself.

“Tell me you love me, Crowley,”

“I love you, Asmodeus,” It sounded just like him. And Aziraphale knew it wasn’t  _ really  _ him, that  _ of course, _ Crowley didn’t love this bizarre demon but it still hurt. It hurt to hear. This must have shown up on his face because Asmodeus quickly said: “Tell Aziraphale you -”

“NO! Please, um, sorry, Asmodeus, but I’d rather not have him say it,”

Asmodeus nodded. He looked almost pitying and Aziraphale hated it. To change the subject, he said to the doll: “S-say hello to me. Call me  _ angel _ .”

“Hello, angel,”

“My goodness!” He took a step back, steadying himself on the wall behind him. It was uncanny. It was amazing.

“You were right. I wasn’t giving him imperatives, that’s why he wasn’t responding. I just sort of...looked at him and expected him to know what I wanted him to do.” He’d looked at the doll like it actually was Crowley, that was his mistake. The real Crowley never needed to be told what Aziraphale wanted.

“It, not he,” Asmodeus chided. “But yes, you need to give order. May I...?”

He wanted to refuse. Asmodeus wasn’t as physically repulsive as the demons Aziraphale had encountered during Crowley’s holy water trial, well, he wasn’t physically repulsive at all. But he couldn’t stand the thought of those hands on Crowley’s body. But he could hardly say no, so instead, he gestured graciously in acceptance. 

But Asmodeus barely touched the doll, instead, he laid down on the bed, shoving Crowley out of the way. He kicked off his boots and spread out his legs. “Lie with me, little one,” he said and Aziraphale hurried to comply. He’d thought Asmodeus was going to start using Crowley immediately, and he inwardly sighed a breath of relief that he didn’t. He lay next to Asmodeus on the bed, lying close so he didn’t fall off, and he was close enough that he could smell that delicious spiced scent.

Asmodeus threw an arm around Aziraphale’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He kissed him deeply, his tongue sliding into Aziraphale’s mouth. Aziraphale had never been kissed like this. He’d had quick pecks on the lips in the dark, in a gentleman’s club he’d frequented a lifetime ago. When he’d bid goodbye to Madame Tracey, she’d given him a chaste little kiss on the cheek. But this was different. This was a dance, an elaborate tango with too many steps to remember, Asmodeus’s tongue twisted, rocking Aziraphale’s tongue into movement, and the movement rocked their whole bodies, then Asmodeus was pulling him into his lap.

Aziraphale let Asmodeus kiss him, and nibble on his lips and touch him in places he’d never been touched before. Asmodeus’s corporation was streamlined, firm and muscled, broader than Crowley but athletic, not skinny, and every touch was confident, was designed to stimulate Aziraphale as much as possible. He found feeling in places that shouldn’t excite him, his ear, his jaw, his shoulder. Asmodeus had removed Aziraphale’s jacket and thrown it somewhere. He’d been indignant about this until Asmodeus started sucking on his neck and then he forgot what he’d been so bothered about. He felt self-conscious stripping in front of Asmodeus’s flawless corporation and Crowley’s eyes, but when Asmodeus had unbuttoned Aziraphale’s shirt, he’d smacked his lips in appreciation and said “Big boy. Likes food. Is good. More for Asmodeus to enjoy!” and rubbed Aziraphale’s belly eagerly, with both hands.

At some point, Aziraphale was sitting on Asmodeus’s lap, his back flush with the demon’s chest, and Asmodeus had one handing rubbing his pectorals and the other down his trousers. He felt exposed, doing this with Crowley looking right at him. He could fool himself that that blank stare was hungry, that Crowley was burning up inside in jealousy. He let Asmodeus stroke him until he was moaning and flushed all over, and imagined that Crowley was using every ounce of control to stop himself from ripping Asmodeus’s hands off Aziraphale’s body and replacing them with his own.

He squirmed under Asmodeus’s touch, both of those warm hands were now down his trousers and seeking out any flesh they could find. He’d always wondered what another being’s hand would feel like there; now he knew. It was vexing but exciting, not being able to know what was happening next. He always knew what his own hand could do, what it was capable of, but these hands were impossible to predict. They pulled at him, tugged him, rolled his testicles in their palms, dry and warm and his body reacted. He never thought he’d be able to come from any other foreign touch but Crowley’s but he did, and quickly, spilling his seed onto Asmodeus’s palms. But it wasn’t the lust demon he was thinking of as he was coming, it was those two yellow eyes burning their way into Aziraphale’s brain. They watched him and he watched them and an orgasm was inevitable.

* * *

He leapt up from Asmodeus’s lap, shocked at his own behaviour and miracled the wet stickiness away with a gesture of the hand. He felt undone, and pinned down by that amber gaze, so he straightened his clothing, attempting to return to a sense of calm, unflappable gentility. 

Asmodeus was smiling with satisfaction, he hadn’t touched himself when attending to Aziraphale. It was impossible to tell what pleased him more: the fact that he’d made an angel come undone or the fact that he’d proved the Crowley doll worked, that it was something that could evoke lust in Aziraphale.

“I don’t suppose what we just did counts as your payment?”

Asmodeus laughed. “Silly angel, you have a long way to go until you have paid Asmodeus back!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asmodeus swings by the shop for his pavement. Aziraphale is starting to see the benefits of the doll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Aziraphale/Asmodeus slash. I've been reading about Asmodeus on Wiki, that's where the rooster leg comes from.

Two of the three days passed in a haze. Mainly, because Asmodeus insisted on drinking and he also insisted on not drinking alone. But also, because there was something about his presence that made the air seemed to blur at the edged of his vision, everything took on a vignette-effect, the room was bathed in shadow and his demonic features looked softer somehow. 

Asmodeus even fucked him in his true form (Asmodeus’s, not Aziraphale’s). He looked not too different than his usual state, except for the horns, wings and his legs. One leg was human, firm, muscled with a dusting of black hair. The other was a thin scaly rooster leg with sharp spurs at the end. Well, Aziraphale supposed, that explained the limp. “Is nice, being with you,” Asmodeus had said, as they’d both worked to untangle Aziraphale’s sheet from his clawed foot. “I not worry about scare off angel like human. Should have done this century ago,”

Aziraphale had been naive to think this would only last an hour, tops. It took days and Asmodeus wanted to try every position, every effort. He wanted to fuck Aziraphale, he wanted Aziraphale to fuck him. He insisted on the Passion Puppet watching them, he said it would be healthy for Aziraphale to get used to its presence and associate it with sex.  _ Healthy. _ There was nothing healthy about this whole situation.

It was fucking, to call it anything else would be self-delusion. Fucking was the term Asmodeus used and so it was the term Aziraphale used. That didn’t mean it wasn’t enjoyable. Granted, Asmodeus was no Crowley, his body wasn’t magnetic, it didn’t pull him in like Crowley’s did. But he was good at what he did, he had a knack for trailing lines of fire down Aziraphale’s skin, desire burning his body until he was begging, saying things that he’d never said before, that he didn’t recall saying. Asmodeus liked to drink but he didn’t have Aziraphale’s appreciation for food, although he let Aziraphale eat some food while he fucked him.

* * *

Early on, he’d called Crowley, to tell him not to come to the shop. It hadn’t even occurred to him, it had been Asmodeus’s idea.

Asmodeus (in a perfectly level voice, even as he arched into Aziraphale’s mouth) had said: “You should call Crowley. I am not wanting him show up here and catch us in undress.”

He was quite right, of course. Asmodeus leant over the side of the bed, his cock slipping out of Aziraphale’s mouth, and withdrew his phone from his jacket on the floor. It was one of those smartphones, similar to Crowley’s but with a plastic covering over it that showed a cartoon drawing of a naked human. He accepted it and typed in Crowley’s number by heart.

Aziraphale would look back on this moment and wonder why he hadn’t had the common sense to wait until after the session was over to call Crowley. But what he didn’t realise was that his muddled brain wasn’t his fault, he was addled by wine and Asmodeus’s demonic lust. It would be impossible for anybody to think clearly with that going on.

“Angel! Why are you calling from a withheld number? Oh, you know how you were saying you haven’t had a good Beef Wellington in twenty-two years? Well, I was passing this pub the other day and I think-”

He had to cut him off before it got too difficult to do so. He could listen to Crowley for hours. “Uh, Crowley, sorry, I can’t talk right now, I just needed to say something-”

“Okay, what is it? Are you alright?” Oh no, he sounded serious. 

Asmodeus mouthed ‘Grumpy Crowley’ and pulled a face.

“I’m fine, I’m fine-” Asmodeus was pouring wine, he poured some in Aziraphale’s mouth without warning and he had to hurriedly gulp it down. “- mm, sorry, I just wanted to say- it’s nothing bad!”

“You’re drunk, aren’t you? I’d better come over there and get plastered too so at least we’ll be on an even keel-”

“No, no! I’m - I’m-” He looked to Asmodeus desperately.

“Otherwise engaged,” Asmodeus said.

“Otherwise engaged,” Aziraphale repeated. He mouthed a grateful  _ thank you. _

“Okay, I - Aziraphale, is there somebody with you? I can hear...movement…”

Oh rats. Oh -  _ rats! _ “Rats! The bookshop is overrun with the beasts, I mean, the darling creatures. I’ve got an exterminator here,”

“You’ve got an exterminator? What about  _ all creatures, great and small _ and all that?”

“Oh, he’s - he’s not killing them! He’s taking them and releasing them in a - a forest somewhere,”

Asmodeus rolled his eyes. He was licking spilt wine off his wrist and the sight was enough to make Aziraphale’s mouth run dry. He knew what that tongue could do.

“Releasing them in a forest? Okay, I suppose that makes...sense. Sort of. You know you can stay with me? If you want. You’re not going to want to be in that flat if there’s rats crawling on everything, right?” He sounded hopeful. Crowley was always so happy to help. Aziraphale was truly lucky to have a friend like Crowley.

Asmodeus reached for Aziraphale’s effort but he batted his hand away. Asmodeus sighed and grabbed the phone in frustration. “The rats not in flat, they only in bookshop. Let me, mild-manner human exterminator, get on with job!”

“I - okay, I’m...sorry?” Poor Crowley sounded bewildered. “How long do you think it’s going to take?”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows at Asmodeus. Just how long was this payment going to take?

Asmodeus took a sip of wine and said “Three day,”

Aziraphale picked up the phone again, pressed it to his ear and muttered “Three days, he thinks,”

“Oh, that’s a shame. Well, if you think you can spare some time, call me, we’ll go to that pub I mentioned. They do these great big boozy trifles with chunks of strawberry!”

Aziraphale moaned. That sounded wonderful. But this was more important. Soon, he’d be able to sit with Crowley and break bread with him, unburdened by his lust. It would be just like old times.

* * *

Two days in, they’d tried every position Aziraphale had heard of (encountered in books), plus some which Asmodeus claimed he himself had invented (Aziraphale wondered if Asmodeus took credit for human inventions the way Crowley did). Two days and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he’d ever want to use his body for this sort of thing again. He currently had a vagina, he wasn’t accustomed to having one but he enjoyed it. But they’d been rolling in the sheets for days and he felt...loose. The sheets were covered in fluids that didn’t bear thinking about, the wine was finished (he’d given the cheap stuff to Asmodeus, he’d keep the nicer wine for Crowley’s more discerning palate. Besides, he was sure he’d seen Asmodeus drinking from a bottle of antifreeze earlier). Aziraphale’s thighs were beginning to feel sore from the constant wetness running down them, and he was sore in other places. He didn’t feel like he could have any more orgasms, although when he told Asmodeus this, the demon had laughed. Asmodeus was dry shaving right now, over Aziraphale’s wastepaper bin, raking his claws along his jaw as he chatted to Aziraphale.

“Is now third day, little one. Three day and you are rid of Asmodeus! We must end ceremony with a bang. Fireworks!”

“We’ve already done everything in that awful book of yours. You can’t keep pulling tricks out of your hat,”

“I not wear hat. My horns would break it. You pretend you unwilling, innocent thing, but Asmodeus know better. Many year of abstinence is no good for any creature. Angel need relief and Asmodeus is humble servant,”

“Yes, well, humble isn’t a word I’d use to describe you. Are you almost done? I’m simply dying to know how you plan to end this on a bang,”

“A moment, if you please. If you want speed things up, you can take sheets off and undress doll,”

Aziraphale considered this and set to work. He was glad to take the sheets off the bed (but ugh, his room was a mess!), and pile them up in the corner of the room. He didn’t use a miracle to clean the room, because, after their first dalliance, he’d used a miracle to clean himself up and Asmodeus had requested that Aziraphale not use his powers in front of him. “Had bad experience with angel once. Had to flee to Egypt just to be rid of him,”

So, no miracles. Unless Aziraphale wanted to be dreadfully rude, which he didn’t.

He sat on the bed, avoiding the eyes of the watchful Crowley. It unnerved him, this motionless Crowley who didn’t roll his eyes or let loose with some stream of snarky sarcasm. But he was getting more used to its presence, as Asmodeus said he would.

Asmodeus had finished his shaving and he came over, settling down on the bed. He held out his arms and Aziraphale scrambled into his lap. He wasn’t self-conscious now, it was impossible to be. Asmodeus had touched parts of his body he’d never even touched himself. And Asmodeus was a chatterbox, he liked to keep up a running commentary on what he liked about Aziraphale’s body, what felt soft, what felt hard, what was fat, what tasted good.

“Mm, how should we end last day, wingy?” He’d called him angel once, but Aziraphale had asked him not to. He hadn’t explained why but he had the horrible feeling Asmodeus knew why, because he’d glanced over at the doll when Aziraphale had said that. He should resent the odd nicknames but Asmodeus had proved he had trouble pronouncing Aziraphale’s name, so it seemed like an easy allowance to grant him.

“You tell me, you’re the expert,”

“Ah, but I live to serve the big-bottomed angel. I have it! Good idea for ending. We use this!” He pointed to the corner, where Crowley’s doppelganger sat. He’d stood for the first hour, but then, Aziraphale had dragged in a chair from the kitchen, he knew it was foolish but he didn’t want to cause the doll any discomfort.

“Use him? But…”

“Is not what you want? Why we are doing this?” Asmodeus turned Aziraphale to face him. “You are frightened?”

“I’m not frightened!” Were all demons this patronising. Aziraphale was a warrior, not some winged wallflower! “I have no problem with touching him or - or doing anything with him! The idea that you think-”

“So kiss him,” Asmodeus was tiring of this conversation, he could tell. But he’d sparked up some need to prove himself in Aziraphale, and the angel knew if he couldn’t even bring himself to kiss the doll, he’d never do it. Which would render these last few days a waste of time (a fun waste of time, mind you). 

He gathered up Asmodues’s jacket, tying it around his waist like a sarong (wishing he could just use his powers to dress and be done with it) and slunk over to the corner where Crowley sat on a straight-backed chair. he dropped to his knees and observed him.

* * *

He was breath-taking. Just like the real thing. Fiery red hair, hard features that on a less intelligent face would look cruel. Glittering yellow eyes (although they looked a little dead on the doll’s face) and a thin, long sardonic slash of a mouth. He’d always wondered what that mouth felt like.

He was aware of Asmodeus’s gaze on his back, so he knew he had to do it. He didn’t want to be thought of as a coward and he wanted to prove his feelings. To himself. To the doll. So, he leant forward and gently pressed his mouth to Crowley’s. It was lacking the warmth that Crowley’s would have (he assumed) but this close to the doll, he could fool himself into thinking this was the real thing. He ran his tongue along the thin lips, over and over, until he’d mapped out every ridge, the line of them. Then pushed his tongue past them, into the waiting mouth. Crowley’s teeth were as sharp as they looked (no fangs though) and he dragged his tongue along one sharp canine until his tongue ached, so that he could pretend Crowley was kissing him passionately, violently. Crowley didn’t respond of course, but Aziraphale didn’t need him to. He sucked at Crowley’s lips, his tongue, the skin around his lips, clinked his teeth against his like wineglasses, kissed him so much and for so long that drool was dribbling out of his mouth when Asmodeus finally pulled them apart.

“What you think? Good?”

Aziraphale fell back into Asmodeus’ arms. They were both squatting on the floor, lower than Crowley’s seated form. He looked down at them without expression.

“He tastes of nothing,” he was able to say when he got his breath back.

“Is doll, what you want him to taste of? Chocolate? Actually, not bad idea, I will put choccy taste in next doll I make-”

“I want him inside me,” Aziraphale’s voice came as a surprise to both Asmodeus and himself.

He looked Crowley in the eyes and said “I want him to make lo - to fuck me,” 

“Very good! Angel is thinking more like demon. Get on bed, little one, and Asmodeus will make this happen,”

Aziraphale was dumped on the bed by Asmodeus, and he untied the jacket, tossing it to the floor. There was a half-empty bottle of lubricant (maybe he  _ was _ thinking more like a demon. An angel would say half-full. Or actually, an angel would probably faint if they walked in this room and saw the debauchery going on) on the bedside table, and it was this he grabbed. He would need to be prepared. He let his legs fall open, and they did, easily. At this rate, if he was a human, he would need to be buried in a Y-shaped coffin. Or actually, if he was a human, he would have died from a heart attack or exhaustion by now. The lubricant was slippery, but firm like a gel and thick, it coated his fingers. He probed his cunt, seeking out the hole which opened up to him easily. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to feel anything, he was so open, but he knew if there was something that could satisfy him, it would be Crowley’s cock. He could have let his fingers brush his clitoris but he pictured his pleasure as a finite resource, he wanted to save it for when Crowley was inside him.

Asmodeus was hefting Crowley up in his arms and putting him at the foot of the bed, like an oversized teddy bear. He took off the grey scarf-tie thing Crowley liked to wear (Aziraphale used to fantasise about yanking on it to make Crowley duck his head for a kiss) and unbuttoned his shirt to his waist. Asmodeus eyed his handiwork with a critical eye. “Is not ideal, some stitch marks on certain places. Still good though. But I think exact copy would not be good thing. Too real, you understand?”

“He’s  _ perfect, _ ” Aziraphale said fervently. He poured another helping of lubricant on his fingers and pushed it inside. “Push his trousers down,”

Asmodeus raised his eyebrows but he did. He lifted Crowley’s hips with one hand and pulled his jeans down to his knees. Crowley’s pale legs were exposed and his crotch, covered by black boxer shorts. His effort was there, not hard, but...present. The line of it in his underwear. Aziraphale yearned for it. Wanted to suck it, roll his tongue around it, take it in his mouth and as far down his throat as he could. But it would taste like nothing and would kill the illusion. So he stayed quiet as Asmodeus took the doll’s cock out.

“Big boy,” Asmodeus commented. He wasn’t wrong. This shouldn’t have surprised Aziraphale, Crowley (the real Crowley) was perfect for him in every way. Intelligent enough to challenge him, mischevious enough to amuse him, brave enough to rescue him and lovely enough that Aziraphale couldn’t help but love him. So it stood to reason that this particular part of him would challenge Aziraphale too, in a different way. His body pulsed for him. He was hot enough that the lubricant was melting down his thighs. 

“Bring him here, I need to get him ready,” he said. He didn’t recognise his own voice.

Crowley’s cock was beautiful, a little darker than his skin tone but still so pale, with dark red curls at the base. It wasn’t hard but he whispered “Be hard for me,” and it stiffened under his fingers. There was no moisture on it, no pre-come welling at the head, but it didn’t matter. Crowley was sitting here and watching him and his body was under Aziraphale’s hands. That was enough. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to feel it from the inside.

Once he’d covered it in the lubricant, Asmodeus hefted Aziraphale up and lowered him onto it. Slowly. He breathed out a sigh, as he sank onto the length. It filled him completely, he felt comfortably stretched, but at the same time, it felt right. He never wanted to lose this feeling.

He grabbed Crowley’s hand, pushing the longer fingers together and rubbed them on his clitoris. Bliss. Those hands were so beautiful, so elegant. They were the hands of a being who had whisked up galaxies. There were thick, black stitches embedded on the back of Crowley’s hands but he didn’t care. 

He heard Asmodeus behind him but paid him no mind, he was kissing Crowley again. Crowley’s mouth was open invitingly, his tongue limp in his mouth but that just meant, Aziraphale could suck on it eagerly without fear he was hurting him.

It was only when he felt Asmodues’s fingers (the talons were retracted) on his buttocks that he reacted.

“Give a demon his due,” Asmodeus murmured, and Aziraphale relaxed. It actually felt nice, those talented fingers were dripping with lubricant and teasing Aziraphale’s hole. One hole was filled with Crowley’s cock, the other was being lightly tested and prodded by the other demon’s fingers. He wasn’t sure whether to rock forwards on the cock or backwards on the fingers, both felt nice.

Asmodeus was behind him, his chest to Aziraphale’s back and he was warm, reassuring behind him. His fingers were holding Aziraphale’s hole open, he realised, for the hard cock pressing against the entrance. He tried to relax, it would fit in there soon enough. It had all those other times. Asmodeus pushed in, deeply and Aziraphale gasped. He was filled, so completely. Any movement was limited. Asmodeus was behind him, Crowley in front of him, all he could do was sit there, straddling Crowley’s waist as Asmodeus hooked his arm around Aziraphale and lifted him. He lifted him and brought him down again and Aziraphale moaned as pleasure coursed through him. Asmodeus did this again and again, and Aziraphale kept one hand by Crowley’s cock, to make sure it stayed in him, even if it was just the tip when Asmodeus was lifting him.

His head felt too heavy for him, so he let himself drape backwards on Asmodeus as he was made to bounce on the two cocks. Asmodeus was sucking his neck, kissing his hair, licking his face and he let him. Asmodeus’s cock was pushing at that secret cluster of nerves inside him, but Crowley felt so big, so deep. He was leaking arousal, it slid down his thighs onto Crowley’s and he used his hand to spread it around, the moisture glinting on Crowley’s thighs was good, he could imagine it was sweat, that this was the demon he knew and loved. He was rocking harder now on Crowley’s cock, fighting for that powerful wave building up in him, he wanted it to drag him down and drown him. He grabbed Crowley’ face and bit his neck hard, as his orgasm hit him. He let out a moan that was muffled by Crowley’s neck as pleasure licked him inside, heat welling up and releasing, his fingers curled, his eyes closed and he could feel his muscles squeezing on Crowley’s cock.

Asmodeus was coming, hot wetness spurting up in Aziraphale’s other hole and the angel fell back against him, exhausted.

Asmodeus probably sensed his lack of energy because he gently pulled out of Aziraphale and pulled him back on the bed to lie down. Crowley’s cock slipped out of him, it was still hard and he wished he could do something to bring him the same pleasure he’d given Sziraphale but he knew it just a doll. Like kissing a photograph, Asmodeus had said.

He’d never felt the urge to sleep before (he’d tried it once but found it boring) but then. He’d never exerted himself this much before. He sank down on the mattress and told himself he was just resting his eyes, but minutes later, he was softly snoring.

Asmodeus smiled down at him and set about cleaning up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale can't avoid Crowley forever, so they meet for lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, baby! All my G.O WIPS WILL be completed!

Aziraphale awoke at around 3:00AM, to cold wind blasting through his bedroom window. There were deep grooves carved in the window sill, where Asmodeus’s foot-claws had scratched the wood as he climbed out. Aziraphale certainly appreciated Crowley’s manners more now than ever. Other demons were so uncivilised. At least Asmodeus was gone now. Their business was concluded. Surely, even a lust demon would have to honour that contract?

Crowley (the ersatz Crowley) still sat in the chair, watching the bed, his eyes glowing in the darkness. It should have frightened Aziraphale but those eyes had been lingering on his face for the last six thousand years. They were the most familiar sight in his memory. He sleepily instructed the doll to crawl into bed with him, and hours passed with familiar hands touching Aziraphale wherever he chose, obedient lips kissing Aziraphale’s neck and chest. 

* * *

Crowley called, later that day, asking if Aziraphale was available and if the ‘rats’ had been despatched. Aziraphale had reassured him that yes, they were very happy in their new home in a suitably green area, and he was free for lunch that afternooon. So they arranged to meet.

Aziraphale had meant to get there a little early, but it didn’t quite work out that way. He’d spent hours rolling in the sheets with the doll and had got distracted. He'd realised, with horror, that he was in danger of being late, so quickly banished the doll to its patchwork state and  barely had time to get dressed before he was rushing out of the shop. It was only when he was sliding into his seat opposite Crowley, in a rustic pub near Chinatown, that he realised he’d forgotten to check his reflection.

“Hello. How’s the shop?” Crowley said as Aziraphale hurriedly threw himself in the booth. Aziraphale relaxed.

“Fine. No chewed books or scamper of little paws anymore!”

“That exterminator of yours was a bit weird...”

“Humans!” Aziraphale said, shrugging in a way he hoped was convincing.

Crowley leant forward, sliding his sunglasses down his nose just enough to uncover his eyes. He frowned. “Are you alright? Your lip’s bruised.”

Aziraphale stiffened in alarm. He grabbed a spoon from the table and subtly checked his reflection. Oh, dear. His mouth did look a little swollen, and the bottom lip bore teeth marks. 

He rubbed a finger over his lips, subtly miracling the marks away. In fact, he did look rather dishevelled. He hadn’t dragged a brush through his hair and it was standing on end. He’d made the doll give him a head massage. It hadn’t been particularly inspired, the same, repetitive motions over and over, but it had been enough to relax him, and feeling those lovely, long fingers twist in his hair had certainly awoken a desire inside him.

He smoothed down his hair and smiled at his friend. “So, how are you, my dear? Do you have any news?”

“No, not really. I bought a new jacket yesterday, it’s black but the lining is a sort of wine colour, you know, purplish-red but -- do you have somewhere to be?”

Aziraphale’s gaze snapped back to Crowley’s face. He hadn’t realised he’d been staring at the clock on the wall above Crowley’s head. He was just so excited to get back, lock the door, pick up the doll and feel those arms around him again.

“Sorry, he said guiltily. “I was staring off into space, I suppose,”

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed but he looked a bit down in the mouth at Aziraphale's lack of interest.

They ate lunch (the trifle was just as nice as it had sounded in Crowley’s description) and talked. Aziraphale knew he couldn’t be a scintillating companion at the moment, he was trying very hard not to look at the clock, but he felt anxious to leave, he kept tapping his foot or fidgeting with his napkin. He also felt paranoid that Crowley could sense his lust. His body felt alive with it, his heart was thundering along in his ribcage, his body was flushed, his fingers would twitch, knotted in the napkin, wishing they could wrap around the doll’s cock. He might as well have a glowing sign over his head that indicated his recent wrongdoing. And it was wrong. He  _ knew _ that. Crowley wouldn’t be happy if he found out.

When they finished (Crowley insisted on paying), they drove back to the bookshop. Crowley was lingering on the doorstep, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve and Aziraphale knew he wanted to be invited in, but he just  _ couldn’t _ do it. He’d tried to be patient in the pub, but now, he was mere feet away from the doll and his body was crying out for it. So, with a smile, he bid Crowley goodbye, thanked him for a lovely time and closed the door. The last thing he saw before the door slammed shut was Crowley’s startled face.

He knew he should wait until the Bentley had pulled away, but every second seemed to drag, and he now understood why humans obsessed so much over sex, in films and literature. He ran to his bedroom where the ragdoll sat waiting. He summoned up the doll, and wasted no time in ripping off its jacket and shirt, so rapidly, it would have hurt a human. 

* * *

Crowley was choosing music for the drive home when he felt a tingling spike of awareness in his gut. He couldn’t explain it, he’d had this sensation since he’d first seen the angel standing barefoot on Eden’s wall. It was a bond between them, something that kept Crowley distantly aware of Aziraphale’s wellbeing. When Aziraphale was in danger, Crowley would feel...something. It was there in revolutionary France when Aziraphale had almost had his head separated from his soft white neck. It was there in that church as a Nazi agent pointed a gun at Aziraphale's face. Some buried instinct, perhaps from Crowley’s angelic days. He felt it now. Aziraphale was up to something. Or in _trouble?_

He didn’t brave the front door of the shop, concerned Aziraphale (or an attacker) would see him, so it was with some reluctance that he crept around the back, to Aziraphale’s flat and let his body shift to something smaller and thinner and...scalier. He preferred to remain in human form but this demonic sleuthing needed a certain level of finesse that Crowley's handling human corporation wasn't capable of. He slithered, from pipe to pipe, up rough, jutting bricks until he reached the window ledge of Aziraphale’s bedroom window. Just one peek. He’d have a cautious glance, just to convince himself that the angel wasn’t in danger, then he’d shift back to human and drive off.

The window was open, thankfully, and Crowley eased himself onto the sill. His serpentine sight was very poor (one of the reasons he loathed being in that form) but he could just about make out two figures. Aziraphale was kissing...someone. It was hard to see, the stupid bed was in the way, they had their back to the window and Aziraphale had his hands in their hair, but it was clearly a man. They were tall, taller than Aziraphale. Their build was similar to Crowley’s, actually, so it couldn’t be Gabriel or someone like that. Well, he thought grimly, that explained Aziraphale’s swollen lips. He slithered down the wall, rough brickwork raking across his tender underbelly, not giving a shit about the pain, he just, he needed to be back in the fucking Bentley so he could _ leave. _

He slammed his fist on the dashboard and the engine groaned. He ruefully patted the area he’d just hit, as he drove away. It wasn’t the Bentley’s fault.


End file.
